The House that Roy and Verne Built; blast from the past – Parts 1 and 2; our builder went bust, and we heard it through the grapevine; up the creek without a paddle; so dry your tears, woman; counting our blessings; up on the roof, or some pricey scaffolding; Bob the (Un)-builder; ceilings, windows, doors, floors and more; Roy’s stairway to heaven; be of good cheer!
It seems almost inconceivable how long this house-building lark has been dragging on for: three full years since the slab went down in May 2021. So disjointed has the progress been, and so dispiriting the experience, that I haven’t even felt like blogging about it for the past two-and-a-half years.
For Parts 1 & 2 of This is the House that Roy and Verne Built, you can look back at the archives. Or simply click on the links below.
From Part 1 of This is the House that Roy & Verne built – breaking ground at 543 Burns Beach Road, Iluka WA
Eating out in Perth WA often means heading into the city. Our northern coastal suburbs offer wonderful beaches, lots of fresh air and a healthy lifestyle, but not much in the way of good restaurants.
Sometimes, we’ll even pack our bags and do a dirty stop-out for a night or two – like we did on the first weekend of June. It just so happened that our great friends Lynn and Kim (based between Yallingup WA and Singapore), were enjoying a touristy stay-cay in the city, complete with a walking tour and a cruise to Fremantle.
A touristy weekend – but mercifully stopping short of boarding this topless bus
They would be at The Citadines. So Roy went online and booked us a studio apartment there too. It’s conveniently located at 185 St Georges Terrace. (Is it just me*, or are you wondering about the road name? I’d be surprised to learn that there were multiple saints with the same moniker. Ah… seems the Terrace was named after St George’s Cathedral, but the apostrophe simply became too hard.)
Roy has always appreciated a surprise birthday treat, and now it seems that I do too. After all, what’s not to like about a WA Midlands getaway complete with Moët, spa bath, massage and attendant kangaroos?
My man had been obdurately tight-lipped about whether we’d be going somewhere on Tuesday, 17 January. But it was fairly obvious that we were – I’d been advised against making any plans for the next morning (the 18th), and he’d suggested that I move my birthday hair appointment back to 9am.
Once the birthday earrings had been unwrapped and it was time to rise, shine and carpe diem, he had to crack. Yes, we are going somewhere. Yes, you need to pack a nice dress for dinner. No, we weren’t going anywhere near the sea; but yes, there might be water, so pack a swimsuit.
Flashback to Crown, this time last year
Hmm… Crown Casino, where I still want to try a couple of restaurants? Or somewhere inland, like the Swan Valley? We had a lovely stay at Mandoon Estate once, courtesy of vouchers from the offspring. (Here’s my blog post about Mandoon.)
And so it came to pass that I found myself in the passenger seat of the Volvo CX40, heading – as far as I could tell – for the Perth Hills. Hurrah! – though I was better packed for a fancy night at Crown, I never mind being overdressed. (Here’s my blog post about our anniversary celebration at Crown last year.)
Across Australia: Only two letters and a sarky Postmaster General in Orroroo, plus pet threats; farewell to the Queen at the Palace, Broken Hill; bureaucratic autocracy and the herdsman-barista at Little Topar; a ray of gluten-free sunshine at Emmdale Roadhouse; a culinary snob concedes in Cobar; biblical rain in Nevertire and Coonabarabran; down by the river in artsy Goondiwindi; destination Brisbane – is it better to travel hopefully than to arrive?
So, here at last is my no-doubt eagerly awaited third and final post on our first-ever (and quite likely last-ever) drive across the grand continent of Australia, from Perth, WA to Brisbane, QLD. For Part One, click here; for Part Two, click here.)
DAY 7: Port Augusta to Broken Hill (412km)
Though I usually take the first driving shift, for no reason at all I suggested Roy start this morning. It must have been a premonition: in addition to a wiggly start out of Port Augusta across the bridge roadworks, driving side by side with massive road trains in narrowed lanes, you’re soon traversing the hills and curves of the Flinders Ranges.
Suddenly, the world is no longer flat – the road out of Port AugustaEndless wind farms near the Flinders Ranges
Orroroo coffee stop
Welcome to Orroroo
An hour’s drive from Port Augusta is Orroroo, which lays claims to having the widest main street in Australia – so wide that the median strip has a shady park. It’s also notable for being the crossroads of the main routes from Sydney to Perth (East to West) and Adelaide to Darwin (North to South).
Things to see in Orroroo include animal sculptures, an early settler’s hut (c. 1870s), the Pekina Creek walking trail, the Post Office*, and the ruins of Pekina Station and Lookout.
*When asked to establish a Post Office in the town in 1880, Postmaster General Todd is supposed to have observed: “Dear me! There are only two letters in Orroroo. What do you want a post office for?”
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Roy parallel-parked the Prado-camper-trailer rig across half a dozen main street diagonal parking spaces; is that allowed? In case it’s not, we kept an eye out for the local Plod. Coffee and my biennial sausage roll at the one café that was open; the cuter-looking one closes on Mondays and Tuesdays, not unusual for small, touristy towns in WA, too.
Pet threat
Overheard from a woman calling her little dog to her in the famously wide median park: “Bugger, come here. Come here, Bugger! Council says you’ve got to come at first call, or they’ll take you to the pound.”
Thirty-eight kilometres from Orroroo, many times its size and just as arty-looking and pretty, is the relatively unheralded Peterborough. What it may lack is animal sculptures, and perhaps someone’s daughter working at the South Australian tourism authority.
We stopped for fuel at Yunta. It’s just that – a fuel stop. A sign warns of no further fuel for the next 200km. It’s true: there was none available at Cockburn.
Broken Hill
Did you know that the BHP in mining giant BHP Billiton stands for Broken Hill Proprietary? Incorporated in 1885, BHP’s history began in a silver, lead and zinc mine right here in Broken Hill.
Argent Street, Broken Hill SA
An important city from the late 1800s to the early decades of the 20th century, Broken Hill is apparently doing well, despite the plethora of closed shops on its main street.
According to the receptionist at our hotel, once the pandemic lockdowns ended and citizens were allowed to travel within their own states, though not yet interstate or abroad, hotels like the Royal Exchange, the Palace, the Astra and others have been flourishing due to new interest from city-siders itching to go somewhere, anywhere. (We saw a similar phenomenon in WA.)
Wow… the Workies Club (no apostrophe)
Art Deco facade, Broken Hill
Broken Hill street corner
Civic building, Broken Hill
The Astra, Broken Hill
Mural art, Broken Hill
Argent Street, Broken Hill SA
Broken Hill pub
Review: Royal Exchange Hotel
The highly recommended Imperial Palace, Red Earth and Astra hotels had been fully booked ten days ago, when we were making our bookings. In fact, the Royal Exchange was perfect for us. Our spacious and elegantly furnished Deluxe Double Room ($180) had a big en-suite complete with deep, old-fashioned tub. (You’ve come a long way from Cocklebiddy, baby.)
The Royal Exchange Hotel, Broken Hill SA
Royal Exchange Hotel reception – a pity the bar was not open during our stayDeluxe Double Room, Royal Exchange Hotel, Broken Hill NSW
Several recommended restaurants mentioned by the receptionist at Royal Exchange were within walking distance: The Astra, The Barrier Social Democratic Club and the Palace were just three of them. We’d definitely need to book for dinner at the Palace, she said, as it’s famous for having been used used in the filming of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.
Palace Hotel
So, having parked the Prado and camper trailer in the nearby civic parking lot and ferried what we needed into the hotel, we strolled the couple of hundred metres to the Palace.
Roy had his eye on a cerise-sequinned beret in the Palace’s souvenir shop, but I managed to gently distract him.
Palace Hotel, Broken Hill NSW
We had a rare afternoon drink in the Palace’s Sidebar, followed by a gentle stroll up and down the main drag (pun intended). It’s called Argent Street, along with other road names like Oxide and Sulphite, reflecting the town’s mining history.
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Later, after a long soak in the deep tub of our olde-worlde and stylish en-suite at the Royal Exchange – aah! I do miss a bath! – it was back into the Sidebar for a G&T before dinner. The atmospheric interiors are all black-and-white tiles, lofty ceilings, crenellated mouldings, original Art Deco fixtures… and the ubiquitous gaudy wrap-around murals of Outback scenery.
Dinner at the Palace
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After half-a-dozen oysters ($18), Roy had the porterhouse ($35) with salad; I ordered grilled barramundi with steamed sorrel potatoes and zucchini ($36); and both were very good. Just then, the swelling tones of church organ pipes and choral song from Westminster Abbey, screened live on the large TV on the bar stage, called us to watch the funeral of Queen Elizabeth II.
For anyone who might not know it, Australia is not just part of the Commonwealth of Nations: it’s actually ruled by the British Monarch of the day, if only constitutionally. Oz’s new PM has said this is not the time to debate the Republican question. And of course it’s not; not when King Charles III is slated for a Royal Visit in 2024!
On a more practical note, when you look at the appalling *embarrassmentof politicians (though they may arguably be no worse than those of many other countries), it’s hard to imagine how they would find a suitable President to head a future Republic of Australia.
*embarrassment: used here as a collective noun
DAY 8: Broken Hill to Cobar (458 km)
We’re still on the A32, the Barrier Highway, with nothing between Broken Hill and Cobar… except for Willcannia (after 200km), a small town that heartily annoyed me because the service station where we stopped for fuel didn’t have a toilet.
Broken Hill to Cobar NSW, along the Barrier Highway A32
Fortunately, I’d already pulled over earlier at Little Topar Roadhouse for an unsanctioned pee-stop – even though we hadn’t covered much ground yet and I could hear Roy’s eyes rolling.
Best pic of the whole journey – delightful animals at Little Topar Roadhouse on the A32 Barrier Highway
Behind the lavatorial outhouses at the back of Little Topar were these wonderfully photogenic animals, all of which he had raised from young, said the old man in a leather bush-hat and black eye-patch who made our coffees. (As he clearly didn’t like the sound of almond milk, I don’t think he’d appreciate being called a barista; neither did I think he’d regard being photographed for this blog as an honour.)
In answer to my questioning, he said: No, he’s not allowed to milk his beasts; raw milk is forbidden. Nor may he slaughter* them; that has to be done through a government agency. He’s not allowed chickens, either; only stamped eggs may be sold, or, indeed, eaten. Posing as health and safety regulation, this just sounds wrong to me. We’re in the middle of f**ing nowhere, after all. Little Topar roadhouse was for sale, and I wasn’t surprised. If I’m this annoyed, can you imagine how pissed off he must be?
*That said, it’s very hard to imagine our barista-herdsman actually wanting to slaughter any of his respectively woolly and furry family.
Between the toilet-shy Willcannia and our destination today, Cobar, is another ray of sunshine in the form of Emmdale Roadhouse. Offering a surprising variety of lactose-free, almond and soy milk, it had a sign saying: “Life is too short for bad coffee” – and this truly was good coffee.
Emmdale RoadhouseCamera-shy barista at Emmdale Roadhouse, stubbornly refusing to look up
In such a small, out of the way kind of place, it would have been rude to ignore another sign thoughtfully advertising gluten-free muffins. That said, separate signs offered a variety of whisky and other hard tack, which I didn’t follow up on.
“Still Life with Roy and Macramé” – Emmdale Roadhouse, 2022
Cobar
Cobar is an Outback mining town in NSW, as this hoarding faithfully represents:
Cobar NSW
The huge Great Western Hotel (below), built in 1898, is said to have the longest cast-iron and timber verandah and balcony in Australia. Imagine how many miners must have graced it with their presence. (Not to mention darkened its doors.)
Great Western Hotel, Cobar NSWGumnut gift shop and café, Cobar NSW
Apparently, Cobar is a popular stop for holiday travellers in wintertime. That would explain the unlikely existence of Gumnut, a thriving and upmarket gift shop with an attractive courtyard café that brews up up a good flat white. (Extra shot, extra hot, two sweeteners.)
Cobar Caravan Park
At the time of booking, all that was available at Cobar Caravan Park was a fairly dreary Budget Double Room cabin. (For me as a Genius Level 3 member, it was just $127 from booking.com.) The new cabins to the rear of the park look, and no doubt are, quite a lot better. As for the campsite, it was the scene of much walking of small dogs, and it looked fine.
DAY 9: Cobar to Coonabarabran (390km)
Following our shortest-route-from-A-to-B plan, we took the Oxley Highway to Coonabarabran via Nevertire, Warren and Gilgandra. This was our one rainy day – and it truly poured for hours and hours, making driving challenging.
Nevertire, a rural village located at the junction of Mitchell and Oxley Highway, is described as “a typical little one-pub railway town” with a dozen houses, which exists for grain collection. Spotting the XXXX sign on a building, I requested the driver to pull over immediately. If Nevertire was a one-pub town, this had to be that pub.
Having been all but destroyed by a mini-cyclone a few years ago, the pub has been rebuilt with all the mod cons. Here it before the cyclone (left), and after rebuilding (right).
Credit: John Flickr
Credit: publocations.com.au
It was currently being managed by a couple from the UK. They explained that this work counted towards the time they were required to work in a rural environment in terms of their visa application.
He was enjoying it, he said: Truckers who stopped there had travelled throughout Australia, and were giving him invaluable advice on where to go, what to see and what to avoid.
She warned us to check with the road travel authorities about possible flooding ahead. There’d been so much rain that the rivers were high and rising… and it was raining really hard right now.
That was good advice. Parts of the road were flooded, but not yet impassable, and I was glad it was Roy who was driving.
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Coonabarabran (Coona)
In such weather, we were not going to be able to appreciate what Coona is most famous for: star-gazing. Thanks to its pristine air, high altitude (505m) and low humidity, Coona is the star-gazing capital of Australia, and several observatories have been established in the area.
Memorial Clock Tower, Coonabarabran
We weren’t going to be appreciating anything about Coona, to be honest. All we were really interested in was getting out of the wet and into the dry.
It was too early to check into our accommodation at Acacia Lodge (a comfortable Deluxe Double Room with balcony, $159 on booking.com; recommended). Fortunately it was lunchtime: and the big Golden Sea Dragon directly over the road came highly rated on TripAdvisor.
I should explain here, perhaps not for the first time, that it’s extremely difficult to get Roy into a Chinese restaurant. Over decades of doing business in China, Taiwan, Japan and other Asian countries, he has been treated to the best of the best in Asian cuisine. As a result of countless banquets featuring rare ghost crabs, soft shell crabs, suckling pigs and the like, he’s become a dreadful culinary snob.
But now there was no getting around it: we were destined to have a Chinese lunch in a big, glossy restaurant in deepest, darkest New South Wales. In fact, the food was excellent, washed down with jasmine tea and presided by a friendly Cantonese matriarch who wanted to know all about our journey, and particularly our children and grandchildren.
My crab and sweetcorn soup and Roy’s hot and sour soup would have been quite enough for lunch; but of course we over-ordered, and had to tapau (take away) much of the barbecued pork omelette and hot-plate tiger prawns with ginger.
(Dinner at the Acacia Motor Lodge was good, too. But I made no notes, took no photos, and for once have no memory of what we ate there.)
DAY 10: Coonabarabran to Goondiwindi (Gundy), 344km
From Coona, it’s about an hour to The Pilliga, which is how Pilliga National Park or Pilliga Forest is referred to. From there, about 50 minutes to Narrabri; another hour to Moree; and another 1.5 hours to Goondiwindi.
It’s pronounced Gun-da-windy, according to the local couple who were having dinner at the Acacia Motel in Coonabarabran last night. (Her actual words: “My mother was English, and she pronounced it ‘Goon-da-win-di’. Wrongly, apparently.) We soon discovered that everyone calls the town Gundy.
Victoria Hotel, Goondiwindi
The Victoria Hotel boasts early colonial Victorian architecture, says the tourism blurb, and has one of a dozen pubs in the town. I count myself a lucky woman if I can coax Roy into one pub, let alone 12.
Victoria Hotel, GoondiwindiCoaxed into the pub at Victoria Hotel, Gundiwindi for a lunchtime beer – and looking quite cheerful about it
Having delicately sipped his way through the smallest size of beer available (a schooner?), Roy mildly agreed to come back for dinner. That was a good thing, especially as just about everywhere else was shut: today, 22 September, was a nation-wide public holiday to mourn the death of Her Majesty, QEII.
The Vic was packed that night, they were understaffed (understandably), and we were warned we’d have to wait 45 minutes to an hour for our steak dinners. We waited for an hour, and then the food arrived so cold that it had to be sent back to the kitchen. Ten out of ten to the indefatigable manager Ben Harrison, who insisted on refunding us on the spot when he heard what had happened. (That must be a first for us in Australia.) Because of that, I would gladly go back.
Opposite the Vic – Another gracious architectural landmark, this one Art Deco
Down by the river
As the weather had cleared, I was itching to explore what looked like one of the more interesting towns on our route. (To be fair, Coona might have had a lot to offer in different circumstances. Though perhaps not.)
So I set off in the direction of the Macintyre River, and here’s a selection of what I saw both on my 6km walk that afternoon, and on my run along the same route early the next morning.
The statue of a famous grey racing horse Gunsynd, whose connection with Gundy is remarkably tenuousStriking sandstone columns, sculpted by Chris Mackenzie in 2001Goondiwindi’s historically significant Tree of KnowledgeFantastic mural art on a water tank next to the Tree of Knowledge, GoondiwindiMore mural art along the Macintyre River – this one brightening up a public convenienceYet more striking riverside art – don’t you love the title?Macintyre River, GoondiwindiGoondiwindi Museum – small, well managed, and well worth a visit
Review: Pioneer Motel Goondiwindi
Pioneer Motel, Goondiwindi
There is plenty of accommodation in Goondiwindi, but we were well pleased with the Pioneer. Our Deluxe Queen Room ($132 on booking.com) had everything we required, and the friendly owner couple told us that whatever else we fancied in the way of toasters, crockery, cutlery and so on was available at Reception. What was more, we arrived a good hour before their 1.30pm check-in time, but they welcomed us anyway and allocated us a room right next to an extra-long parking space.*
*I may not have mentioned one small, worrying niggle that accompanied us all the way across Oz: that our accommodation wouldn’t have suitable parking for the Prado with camper-trailer attached. (In fact, we should have let each place know about this in advance.) Luckily, it all worked out fine.
DAY 11: Goondiwindi to Brisbane (354km)
Did I feel a sense of relief on this, the last day of our journey, as we made our ever-slower way, first through the busy city of Toowoomba and on to the motorway-heavy approach to our destination? No, I did not.
Though I’ve always described myself as a city-dweller at heart, happiest when able to walk to nearby stores, pubs and restaurants, there was something about this unlikely ten-day Outback journey that deeply appealed to something in me.
In fact, I felt I could have carried on – maybe not north to Cairns again, as we did last year (click here for Part 8 of that huge story), but instead right, to… well, to wherever the road might lead.
A good job well done, Roy! – outside our family’s new home in Toowong, Brisbane QLD
Next up? Well, my newly re-established editor role at Expat Living magazine will take me to Singapore next week, so I might have something to say about that wonderful city where Roy and I lived and worked for almost 16 years. My husband will be home alone in Perth, so let’s hope he behaves himself.
Across Australia, Part Two: World’s rarest coffee; Eucla, a tale of rabbits and sand; the Nullarbor Nymph – the myth and the restaurant; distressingly rum do’s at the Eucla Motor Hotel bar; over the border to South Australia; nasty Nundroo; forbidden fruit confiscation; oysters at Ceduna; Kimba – halfway across Australia; Port Augusta; a most surprising billboard
To recap Part 1, we’re driving from Perth WA to Brisbane QLD. That pink bit on the map below is the Nullabor Plain, which we’re taking three days to cross.
Location of the Nullabor Plain, WANorseman to Ceduna – the Nullarbor Plain: all those place names are just roadhouses, not towns
Ten days from Perth to Brisbane; stars of Southern Cross; Five Norseman of the Apocalypse; the Great Australian Bite; suddenly losing it at Cocklebiddy; everyone has to be somewhere
It was time to go somewhere. Almost anywhere. We were still waiting for our bridging visa travel facility to be approved, five or six weeks after it had been lodged. Until then, we couldn’t leave Australia, simply because we wouldn’t be allowed back in.
So when the opportunity arose for Roy and me to drive son Carl’s Prado and camper-trailer across the continent – Carl was determined to have it there, one way or another! – we took it. (He, Carl, had just been promoted on a two-year contract to a role in Brisbane QLD, and was in the process of moving there with Carrie and the grand-girls, Mia and Holly.)
Our route from WA to QLD (Credit: brendanoonan-onmybike.com)
How long does it take to drive across Australia?
Ten days seemed a reasonable time to cover the 4,400-odd kilometres from Perth on the west coast to Brisbane on the east coast. We would share the driving as we’d done before, on a two-week road trip from Brisbane all the way north to Cairns in June 2021; and from Perth to Monkey Mia and back in June this year, 2022.
Leaving Daytona Drive, Iluka WA on a chilly September morning
Day 1:Perth to Southern Cross (369km)
Heading along the Great Eastern Highway from Perth through Wheatbelt country to the small town of Southern Cross, it seemed only polite to stop for fuel and coffee at the roadhouse at Meckerling, as the original town was swallowed by an earthquake in 1968. But no – the electricity was down, due to storms, so we pressed on to Merriden instead.
Mural in Southern Cross, WA
Review: The Palace Hotel, Southern Cross (6 Orion Street, $160)
The proprietor of the heritage-listed Palace Hotel in Southern Cross, built in 1911, is an Irishwoman who takes no prisoners: probably an essential attribute when it comes to keeping her wayward clientele in line.
(She’d warned Roy in advance that she ran a small team, and that we could check in either before 2pm or after 4pm. A booking website also warns as follows: “Zero tolerance venue. When negative responses are given [on TripAdvisor, for example] it is usually because we do not tolerate anti social behaviour. Rare to find in Australian country hotels.”)
We liked our room, Number 4 of four on the ground floor of the original heritage building – all high ceilings, monochromatic palette, a comfortable queen bed and an enormous bathroom with a spa bath. (Whose jets didn’t work, I mentioned; but they weren’t supposed to, responded the boss triumphantly: “We don’t sell the room as having a spa bath.” )
The Palace Hotel, Southern Cross WA
As you’d expect from a hotel that has 47 dongas*, the bar and restaurant (open seven days a week) does a roaring trade with local and passing workers.
Signs strictly instruct: “No worker’s boots beyond this point”. To be certain of dinner, you have to get your order in by 6.30pm; and it can take up to an hour to arrive, as was the case with ours. Never mind: look at these prices! Four dollars for a glass of wine, or $7 for a pint of whatever the beer of the month is.
* In South Africa, a donga is a narrow ravine caused by soil erosion. Here in Australia, it has been defined as portable one-room accommodation.
Dinner at the Palace
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My prawn-topped grilled snapper with chips and salad was fine – though the fish was a bit overcooked, as often happens; and Roy was downright gloomy that his otherwise fresh and beautiful-looking veggies with his snapper were hard – as often happens at a tavern. (Landlady: “We always cook them al dente – I boil my veggies for one minute, and will continue to do that while I still have teeth.” Right, then. All the better to bite you with!)
Star of the Southern Cross
Founded by gold prospectors in 1888, the town is named after the Southern Cross constellation. Here’s another local star: Peter Carlson, who did his best to find me a USB adapter for my Mac.
Peter Carlson, owner of SX Hardware and News, did his best to find me a USB adapter for my MacBook AirStreetscape in Southern Cross, WA
Day 2: Southern Cross to Norseman (352km)
Though I’d never driven the Prado, let alone towed a camper-trailer, it was time to bite the bullet. If anyone else could do it, why shouldn’t I? So I pulled off with my heart in my mouth, reminding myself to breathe and to hold course in the face of intimidatingly thunderous road trains.
Prado with camper-trailerI may be driving, but I’m not pumping gas
Coffee at Coolgardie
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Today something of a ghost town, Coolgardie was a thriving gold rush centre in the late 19th century and is now doing its best to be a tourist destination. Take, for example, the Ben Prior Park and Outdoor Historic Museum below – great for families with kids.
Ben Prior Park, Coolgardie WA
With a cold wind blowing, Roy was even less inclined than usual to trawl the long main street with me. As usual, I reported back that various historical signs talk about the numerous hotels that once lined its broad streets, and that its population of gold prospectors supported eight newspapers!
The lady at the IGA, opposite the picturesque old Returned Servicemen’s League building, pointed me back down the street to a café, located next to the art gallery and operating out of a small caravan with a sheltered garden. “If you get to the bar, you’ve gone too far.”
Roy had already sniffed it out, and fuelled up with not one but two double-shot flat whites. (As we move east through WA, he is learning not to ask for his standard long mac, topped up: that is a peculiarly Western Australian animal.) Those advertised scones were good, by the way!
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Norseman WA
Another gold mining town, Norseman’s Goldmine was the second-richest goldfield in WA, next to the Golden Mile of Kalgoorlie, and is Australia’s longest continuously running gold-mining operation.
Are these the Eight Norsemen of the Apocalyse? No, they’re the TinCamel Roundabout! – a nod to the camel trains that were a common sight in these parts during the late 1800s.
Camel Roundabout, Norseman WA
Review: Great Western Travel Village, Norseman (1 Prinsep Street, $179)
Friendly Jules at reception gave me me the key for number 15, but Roy and I had to hang around waiting for it to be cleaned – around 45 minutes after the 2pm check-in time.
There were no self-catering facilities in our rather sparsely furnished room, apart from a fridge and a kettle. No shower enclosure, but just a plastic curtain, to Roy’s disgust. Just one bedside table and lamp next to the otherwise comfortable queen bed; and the TV was a small computer monitor.
Great Western Travellers’ Village, Norseman WA…… possibly looking quite a bit better in these blue-sky pics than it really was
Fortunately, dinner at the motel restaurant turned out fine. Steaks with either veggies or salad and chips ($36) were cooked to a turn. Sweet service, too from an Italian girl, who discovered that yes, they did have Colman’s Hot English Mustard, and brought Roy a bowlful big enough to season hundreds of roast beef sandwiches for at least a platoon of British Grenadiers.
When I asked for olive oil for my salad, the message from the relief chef was that this wasn’t an Italian restaurant, but here, try this coriander/lime/sugar concoction. Our waitress confessed that she too was missing olive oil, and seemed both unaware and disinclined to believe that it was available at all in WA… let alone that the state produces its own first-class olive oils from hundreds of olive groves, right alongside the famous vineyards in Margaret River, the Swan Valley and more.
Alternatives
As a dining alternative, Jules had suggested the Norseman Hotel. But that was back in town – easily walkable in better weather, but the wind was cold and unpleasant. And once he’d parked the Prado with trailer attached, Roy made it cleat that he wasn’t driving anywhere.
Norseman Hotel, Norseman WA
And here’s the other alternative: the Art Deco-style, Railway Tavern, possibly still undergoing restoration/refurbishment. Like the heritage-style Norseman Hotel, it’s centrally located on the main village street. Nearby are the usual denizens of a rural settlement: hardware store, IGA, post office, and Thai restaurant. (Naturally.)
Railway Tavern, Norseman
Day 3: The Nullarbor, Norseman to Cocklebiddy (437km)
Norseman is where you turn on to the Eyre Highway and begin the 1,200km-odd drive across the Nullarbor Plain – described as a stretch of semi-arid desert that stretches from the goldfields of WA to the Eyre Peninsula in South Australia. (Interestingly, the name comes from the Latin nulla arbor, meaning no trees.)
It’s also home to the world’s biggest expanse of limestone rock: over 1,200km from west to east, and 200,000 square kilometres.
That doesn’t mean there’s no life here. I don’t know what I was expecting, but you get the feeling that this so-called desert, covered in blue-bush and malga scrub, is home to rich ecosystems teeming with diverse plants and animals. And after the recent rains, it was alive with wildflowers.
Roadhouse Blues
As usual, I did the first two-hour stint of driving – from Norseman to Balladonia Roadhouse. (I prefer it that way.) From here onward for the next few days, until we arrived in Ceduna, roadhouses offering meals, fuel, accommodation and camping are all there is. There are no towns, no villages, nothing. Just road trains, like these:
Road train at Balladonia Roadhouse
Apart from roadhouses, the long, straight road is punctuated with rest stops – some providing just off-road parking for anything up to two hours; and others designated as 24-hour stopping points.
Nullarbor Plain roadhouse map
There’s no reason not to stop at each roadhouse, so we did. The one at Balladonia offers all the usual “servo” (service station) meals, which would no doubt kill you over time, but also “bean coffee” that brought a smile to Roy’s dial. (He even ordered a second one to go. This looks like becoming a habit.)
Balladonia Roadhouse, Nullarbor Plain WA
From Balladonia, there is access via 4WD to the start of the famous cliffs of the Great Australian Bight. Though we were most certainly in a 4WD, any suggestion on my part that we should veer off into the dusty unknown, merely to see a view of the sea, would likely have earned a Great Australian Bite from my husband. So I refrained.
Caiguna Roadhouse
Caiguna Roadhouse 2
Caiguna Roadhouse interior
Re-fuelling at Caiguna
90 Mile Straight
Similarly at Caiguna Roadhouse, soon after which you pass the sign marking the start (or end) of the 90-mile straight, or Australia’s Longest Straight Road – 146.6km. To be honest, it didn’t feel particularly straighter than some other journeys we’ve done in this sprawling giant of a country.
Review: Cocklebiddy Hotel/Motel ($150)
I’d been at great pains to inform Roy that Cocklebiddy Wedgetail Motel/Hotel and service station was all there was here, though the area is known for its interesting caves. Most notable of these is Cocklebiddy cave, a single 6km-long passage of which 90% is underwater. Sounds like fun.
Parked at Cocklebiddy, Nullarbor Plain
So, the combined servo/hotel/motel you see in the photo below literally is Cocklebiddy, and – not being a spelunker (should that be splonker?) – he’d find nothing else of interest. Neither would he find any sort of connectivity. As it turned out, he hadn’t been listening to me, so all this came as a nasty shock. Thank goodness for his Kindle!
Cocklebiddy Wedgetail Hotel/Motel and Service Station
Personally unsurprised that the cheerful receptionist had no record of Roy’s having made a phone booking – I was in the room when he made it, and, what’s more, I recognised her chirpy voice – it was a small relief when she handed over the key to number 22 of the 30 motel rooms. Located in the out-facing row of the motel accommodation block, our room looked out over a bleak expanse of gravel and dust, with several parked road trains serving as merciful wind-breaks from the strong and chilly westerly gusts.
Accommodation block at CocklebiddyRoom with a view – Cocklebiddy Roadhouse
Suddenly losing it
Roy was bearing up quite well under the strain, I thought. Considering we’d just forked over $150 for a threadbare motel room with broken carpets, an iced-up fridge, and a bed that skittered about on its wheels under decades-old bedding, his demeanour was remarkably composed.
Hey, I wondered: is my husband mellowing in his old age?
But then he lost it, quite suddenly… all because of a teaspoon that he required to squeeze out a teabag. The absence of a teaspoon, to be exact. “What a shithole!” he finally exploded. Good thing there was whiskey in the bar.
Whisky in the bar – Cocklebiddy Roadhouse
More whisky in the bar – Cocklebiddy Roadhouse
In retrospect, we really could have driven on to Eucla today, and perhaps we should have. (Or, even more easily, to Madura, just 100km west of Cocklebiddy.) On such long, straight and well-maintained roads, the driving itself is pretty easy. And once you get to one of these roadhouse destinations, washed your coffee flasks, assembled lunch from your cooler bag full of padkos (food for the road), uploaded your photos and written up your blog, there’s not much to do.
Except contemplate your navel while reflecting that everyone has to be somewhere, and right now you might just as well be here as anywhere else.
Next up, watch out for Part 2 – from Cocklebiddy to Ceduna!
Crown Perth for a vintage celebration; our Keg & Thistle origin story; say “Crown”, not “The Crown”; checking in, then and now; the great bathroom quandary; High Tea vs High Cheese – cheese, please; ocean vs pool – no contest; singing the casino blues; Oyster Bar EQ diversion; Nobu bento box diversion; review: Rockpool Bar & Grill
Where does a vintage couple like us go to celebrate? – why, Crown of course! This time, it was to mark our 30th anniversary of meeting.
Roy and I met in a bar in Florida Road, Durban, on 25 August 1992. Four years later to the day, he proposed to me in the same bar: the Keg & Thistle, now long gone. And so we make a point of having a drink in a bar every 25 August to celebrate… well… ourselves.
Billabong break; take a left to Shark Bay; Shell Beach… Woman, know thy limits; a scenic lookout’s backside; one ferocious feather duster; delightful Denham; Monkey Mia – what’s in a name?’; Ocean Park Aquarium; Review: Monkey Mia RAC
Kalbarri north to Monkey Mia is 399km, so four hours. Roy took over the wheel roughly halfway, at Billabong. (Yes, there’s a place called Billabong… actually, there’s another Billabong in the state of Victoria, and for all I know there could be several others.)
Northampton, another settler town; kangaroo graveyard on the way to Kalbarri; missing Blue Holes and a Red Bluff; Port Gregory and its pretty Pink Lake; three geological marvels; dire dining prospects in Kalbarri, so thank goodness for IGA; review: Finlay’s Seafood; review: Kalbarri Edge Resort
Courtesy of the fact that I was driving, we were permitted to stop and pay our respects to the Big Crayfish at Dongara before rejoining the Great Northern Highway (GNH), first destination Northampton. Northampton would be a good stopover, with its nicely restored settler buildings and various accommodation options.
When to go up north; the Seven Dwarves of travel; which road to take; the bustling metropolis of Cataby; two towns, one river; review: Seaspray Holiday Park; a squadron of pelicans; in search of Dongara’s history
Here in Western Australia, the best time time to go up north it when it gets too cold and rainy down south in Margaret River. Winter, basically. Northwestern Australia sizzles in summer, and I know better than to make my husband hot and miserable on purpose.
Though I presented Roy with the itinerary for a “trip up north” for his birthday in May as a fait accompli, I wanted it at least as much as he did… maybe more. Another advantage to planning the itinerary and booking the accommodation solo is that it lets you make unilateral decisions… so much easier!
Having the luxury of time, incorporating no more than four hours of driving daily is ideal for us. Also, we share the driving equally: two hours each means no one gets to be the Driving Martyr. It also helps keep the Seven Dwarves of travel out of the car. You know them: Grumpy, Bolshy, Crabby, Snappy, Sarky, Cranky and Whiney.
Port Denison – and no sign yet of the Seven Dwarves of travel, fortunately
Which Road to Dongara?
There are two routes north from Perth. The one we took some years ago, on a trip to Geraldton, hugs the coast – though not closely – and takes you via the Indian Ocean Drive to Lancelin, Cervantes and The Pinnacles, Jurien Bay, Green Head and Leeman.
Though I was at the wheel, the Volvo CX40’s GPS decided we’d follow the alternative route: via Neaves Road to the Great Northern Highway (GNH). Apart from wildflowers in season and some major mineral mining operations no doubt making someone a massive fortune, the GNH has not a lot of obvious sightseeing in its favour; but it was fairly pleasant. Towns* along the way include Cataby, Coolgara, Badgingarra and Eneabba.
* Note on towns
Australia has a liberal approach in its description of human settlements. To me, its “cities” look more like towns: Bunbury (population 31,000) is classified as a city; while what promises to be a “town” might be more like a hamlet. Eneabba, for example, had a population of 147 at the 2016 census. This becomes important when planning a trip – don’t assume you’ll find accommodation, fuel or even a cup of coffee en route!
A decent cup of coffee – alas, not in Cataby, but in WA’s toddlin’ town of Toodyay
Anyway, with a total of less than three hours’ driving today (289km from Perth to Dongara) we stopped at Cataby (population around 173) to change drivers; fill up (unleaded 91 only); and suck back a free instant coffee (the coffee machine was kaput). In retrospect, we could have held out for the second roadhouse, where the coffee machine might not have been out of order and a wider variety of petrol might have been available.
Dongara and Port Denison
Dongara and Port Denison are double towns, straddling the River Irwin.
Port Denison view
Port Denison is a bright, clean port town, with its attractive South Beach, a big marina and several stopover options.
I preferred the look of Dongara – mainly because it promised early settler history. The name comes from “Dhungurra”, or “Thungarra”, meaning a meeting place for seals, or place of the fur seals, in the local Aboriginal language. Dongara was a good choice: see here.
Irwin River, Dongara WA
Review: Seaspray Holiday Park
Seaspray Holiday Park is located right on the beach, an easy walk from the centre of Dongara. Our Chalet No. 2 had possibly the best location of them all. It was 50 metres from the beach, and overlooked a nice pool reserved for chalet and apartment guests.
We didn’t need three bedrooms; but we did want a kitchen, and this place was beautifully located and offered good value. Also, it allows one-night stays, which is not always the case. (Both Kalbarri Edge and the RAC Monkey Mia Resort, reviewed later, required at least a two-night booking.)
Seaspray Beach Resort, Dongara – that’s the Seaspray Café on the right
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Not that you’d want to swim at this time of year, despite the lovely sunshine – the water was nippy, to say the least. That said, sitting around the fire-pit that first evening at Seaspray Beach, Dongara, you barely needed a jumper, though we’d left home that morning in a chilly 10°C.
A couple of families with numerous kids were roasting innumerable marshmallows and ruining their collective dinners.
Sitting around the fire-pit, Seaspray Beach, Dongara WA
You need to actually be on the beach like this to truly appreciate our WA sunsets (and today was WA Day).
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There’s no shortage of hotel and pub fare in Dongara. The Dongara Hotel Motel was doing a brisk trade when we drove past earlier, and we saw at least one other bar, too. Not being fans of tavern-type food, we dined on seafood curry that I’d brought from home, thawed and reheated.
Dinner chez nous, Dongara
In fact, this whole week away re-confirmed that you can eat healthy, home-cooked food while you’re on the road. That’s if you want to; I know that not everyone does – and as long as the accommodation you book has a full kitchen with a fridge and freezer.
Taking a left on the beach took me to the mouth of the Irwin River, where I chanced upon the highlight of my day: a squadron of seven pelicans. Unfortunately, I only had my iPhone with me, and not my Canon camera. Keeping watch with one beady eye, they let me gradually sneak up on them for a while before gracefully setting sail.
Squadron of pellies, Irwin River estuary
Following the river bank back, I gratefully thanked whoever had installed a boardwalk through the marsh; but then the path became waterlogged and I found another way, a deeply rutted track leading uphill to a lookout over the estuarine river, Seaspray Park and the beach.
Boardwalk along the Irwin river, Dongara WA
Later, I saw from the signs below that I’d done sections of the recommended trails.
Heritage trails in Dongara – a sign at the roadside lookout
Dongara town
Next morning, I took my camera and headed up the short hill along Church Street from Seaspray to Dongara town. The idea was to explore the small CBD and hit the tourist info office, the museum and Russ Cottage before Roy joined me for coffee at the Bakery. At the first roundabout, you turn right to find the tourism office, the library, the museum and the police station.
Post office and public library, Dongara WA
But the museum and Russ Cottage would open only “around 10.15am”, said the woman at the info office; they’re staffed by volunteers. Fair enough. And the museum isn’t open on Tuesdays. Okay.
I did enjoy Dongara’s main street, featuring “handsome stands of Moreton Bay and Port Jackson fig trees” – planted in 1906, for a total cost of 16 shillings and four pence.
Gorgeous old trees…
… in Dongara’s main street
The Dongara Heritage Trail is 4.6 km long, starts at the Royal Steam Flour Mill and passes Priory Lodge, Russ Cottage, the Old Police Station and Court House, the Church of St John the Baptist and “the gracious houses on Hunts Road”.
Thwarted with regard to the museum, I wandered down Waldeck Street to the old Flour Mill, built in 1894. Another disappointment: it’s privately owned, and you can’t view it except from afar. That makes it difficult to get a view that doesn’t include a lot of scrap metal, near-scrap vehicles and an otherwise charming chicken coop.
The old Royal Steam Flour Mill, Dongara
Considering its Heritage Council description, below, you’d think someone might have tried harder:
“The Dongara Flour Mill has high historic significance given its important association with the economic and agricultural development of the Irwin District… The place has high aesthetic significance, given its use of local materials, dominant scale, and siting at the main northerly entrance to the town. The Dongara Mill and surroundings have scientific significance for their potential to contribute to the better understanding of the history of the state and the district through the analysis of archaeological material from the place. The place has high social significance given the local community’s commitment to its conservation.” Really?
The will to live
By 9.45am I was close to losing the will to live: or at least, the will to continue exploring Dongara’s fascinating pioneer history. Thank goodness for mobile phones: Roy, having packed the car, picked me up somewhere along Waldeck Street, weeping gently. (Me weeping, not him.)
Instead of the unappealing Bakery – no seating, no coffee, synthetic aromas – we tried both Poppies, located in a gorgeous converted chapel next to the ANZAC Memorial, and the café opposite it. Both were closed from Monday to Wednesday (yesterday to tomorrow). Dongara Hotel Motel being the only other option in town, we had another mediocre coffee there.
Poppies, near the Anzac Memorial in Dongara – so cute, and worth trying if you find it open
We used to say it was difficult to find bad coffee in Australia; but as we moved farther north on this trip, it was proving far easier than we’d previously thought.
Dongara’s splendid Big Crayfish, on the outskirts of town
Next up, Part 2 of our trip up north: Northampton street scapes, and the wonderful rock formations around Kalbarri!
